


the agent who never would (be the same again)

by azraeil



Series: stages in the life of tiago rodriguez [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Spoilers for Skyfall, i can't actually think of anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azraeil/pseuds/azraeil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of his sell-out, subsequent suicide and how Tiago Rodriguez became Raoul Silva.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the agent who never would (be the same again)

**Author's Note:**

> The direct sequel to "the agent that couldn't". This kind of just spawned in my head one day and I had to write it down.

When he woke up for the first time, he felt panic. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be dead and gone and buried six feet under, with the hope that his death made M feel the same pain he felt when he knew she had betrayed him (because, in his mind and at that moment, she was dead to him).

There was a startled beeping at his side, the rate picking up and going faster, quicker than it was supposed to. There was screaming, someone was screaming and he didn’t know who it was. Maybe it was himself, because it definitely sounded like his hoarse shouting.

Someone rushed into the room, something went click and he fell into that blissful darkness once more.

——

After waking up the second time, this time longer and with less panic, a nurse walked in. Everything was explained.

He had been found outside the hospital, obviously poisoned with something. It was in his mouth, and they had later found out it was cyanide. The doctors and staff had brought him inside, saving as much of him as he could and this was what was left.

When he looked in the mirror, at his teeth and his mouth and jaw, he felt sick.

The sadness, loneliness, bitterness, and the all-consuming rage rose up inside him. It was all too much and he didn’t know what to do. His head was dizzy and he felt like falling down and never getting up again. It was all catching up to him and he just wished for peace, for things to stop and calm down and let him breath for a moment.

He screamed.

——-

He smiled to himself as he turned around, looking at the mirror in front of him. It had taken such a long time for him to recover, for them to make prosthetics to replace all that he had lost in his mouth, for his body to heal itself from the burning acid spreading through it. But here he was now, alive and well.

He couldn’t say he was happy about it, not at all, but he had been thinking things over.

The man had been right. He could get revenge, but he wouldn’t do it with the kidnappers help. He would do it by himself. He had the resources; the abilities; the knowledge and that was all he needed. With all these things, he could build up his.. His empire and he would win.

Because that’s what villains did.

They built and they fought and they tried to win and even if they never did, he would be the first, the best.

Picking up the meagre belongings he had with him, mostly the clothes he had been wearing when he was admitted, he turned around on his heel. Making his way out of the room, he headed down to the bottom floor of the hospital and to the front desk where the nurse who had been oh so kind to him sat.

She smiled, holding out a piece of paper and he took it with a nod of thanks.

Leaning over the desk, he picked up the pen that lay there and signed his name. The nurse, curious to the name he had never given, looked down at it and read. She then looked back up to him.

“Congratulations on getting out of here, Mister Silva.”

——

It didn’t take long to acquire all of the things he needed. As an agent – ex-agent, rather – he had hidden away different accounts in different banks, under different names that not even MI6 knew about. The pay was good and he had them filled up quite healthily.

The years past, and he settled down in a small safe-house, surrounded by computers and laptops and began his change. Computer programs were made, ‘goons’ were hired and his name soon became one that was well-known throughout the darker areas of England. Raoul Silva was not one to be messed with, not if you wanted to live.

Soon, he had to move. Things had gotten too big, too wide-spread. So he did. There was an island, one that would be perfect, and he scattered them all. A fake warning was enough to send them scrambling. Instead, he moved in and brought his laptops, computers, wiring and everything else he needed with him. Criminals signed up to join him for the right pay, and his empire was built.

He had an eye, a spy in almost every organisation no matter how big or small, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

——

But one day, he decided to visit someone. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, but at the time he thought it would be. A mistake.

It wasn’t hard to break into the MI6 building when you knew it like the back of your hand and when you could hack into their security so easily that it made you laugh. And that’s what Silva did.

When he made it to the office he wanted, there was no one inside. So he sat, and he waited and he waited, until finally she returned. He grinned at her, his prosthetic teeth long-since taken out, sitting in a case in his pocket.

“Hello, Mummy.”

She looked horrified.

“Tiago, what are you—“ He cut her off, because he would not allow her to speak until he was happy with it being so.

“Ah, ah, ah, Mummy. No speaking, not right now,” He admonished mockingly. “And there is no Tiago anymore, I am afraid,” Silva’s voice held a serene lilt to it, one that almost sounded like he was wishing for the old days when he was Tiago and this wouldn’t be happening. But he didn’t: villains didn’t wish for things like that. It would only hold them back.

“The name is Raoul Silva now,” M’s mouth opened, but she quickly closed it. Of course MI6 had heard of his name. He was.. big in crime, but it wasn’t theirs to handle. They could leave it up to the police, to Scotland Yard despite how lacking they were in almost every department.

“Tiago, how are you alive?” She demanded, despite his admonishing earlier. No one would tell her not to speak, especially in her own office.

“I don’t know,” He admitted, looking pained for a brief moment before the look was swept off of his face once more. It was replaced by the now-normal cool arrogance he always held these days. “All I know is that the cyanide didn’t work, and I woke up in a hospital. But that’s not what I’m here for, no no,” He shook his head, tutting slightly as he stepped closer to her.

“What I’m here for is to find out why. Why you sold me out, why you left me there, why I had to go through all of that..” He looked at her, a scowl reaching across his face. “Why you allowed me to hold on to the hope that you hadn’t betrayed me for so long.”

M looked pained, lips pinched together and a hand clenching. “You were winding down the path we didn’t want you to go, Tiago,” She said, walking slowly over to her desk and falling down on her chair. “There was no way to help you. After you hacked the Chinese.. they gave us an ultimatum: give you to them and have other agents back, or they all die.” She couldn’t allow herself to let so many agents die just for one that was driving himself insane.

“You sold me out for others..” Silva whispered, more to himself than anything. A grin lit up his face, and he laughed once more. It wasn’t a happy, joyful laugh, but a dark and hurt one that wouldn’t stop. It went on for minutes, the sound painful to M’s ears, until he finally stopped. “Oh dear Mummy, you’ll soon learn that you were the one to push me down this path. I would have stayed, been faithful, had you just kept me,” He looked to her, and his grin was cruel, twisted.

“You will soon learn that this and everything I do is all your fault.”

This was where he dropped the last of Tiago, fully taken over by Silva. Now his mission would be carried out without a flaw and he would win.

(Except one part of Tiago still clung to him without his knowledge.)

——

So he carried on, and he hated and planned. Everything was going to be perfect. His revenge would work, M would realise his mistake and he would be satisfied. One of her old agents would be the death of her. Literally.

The dreams of torture still haunted him at night and he would wake up with a scream lodged in the back of his throat. He would swallow it and push himself out of bed, shower and go on with his day and his plotting. He would not allow this weakness to carry him down, to let it ruin things. The memories were just that: memories. 

Everything that happened, the torture and the hurt, it all happened to Tiago. Not Raoul. It was all the agent of the MI6 that was loyal to M, the complete opposite of Silva, so they did not belong to him. They weren’t his memories and he was fine.

 

(Except he wasn’t. Silva was scarred both mentally and physically, and Tiago was in there somewhere, hidden away and supposed to be dead. He wasn’t, but instead worked like the conscience Silva battled with and ignored. Tiago Rodriguez was a weakness. Raoul Silva was stronger than that.)

——

Silva smiled down at Bond. This was where his plans would begin, where the revenge would come and this would all end. He would have his happy ending, if there even was such a thing. He leaned forward, right into the man’s personal space and touched. It wouldn’t be the last time, he was sure. This was much too fun to let go too easily and too quickly.

——

He threw in the grenade, expecting the explosions he had already sent in to have killed the agent already. He mourned the loss of what-could-have-been, but the right-here-right-now was much more important. He wouldn’t let it get to him, and when he walked away and the house created an even larger explosion, he screamed in rage once more.

——

And now he realised that maybe he couldn’t do anything to get revenge. If he couldn’t shoot her himself, what good would it do?

But before he could think on it, rearrange his plans slightly, there was a knife in his back and once more, for the first time in many years, the blackness took him.


End file.
